


to ease my troubled mind

by andsoitgoes



Series: leave yourself intact (i will be coming back) [2]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andsoitgoes/pseuds/andsoitgoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras finally understands why Courfeyrac's been quoting <i>Kryptonite</i> in all of his Facebook statuses. Animorphs!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to ease my troubled mind

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for comments/kudos on the first part of the series! This part came out much, much quicker than I expected. The next installment will definitely take longer, as we're heading into finals season :(. Apologies for any mistakes/confusing parts- it's unbeta'd. I hope you enjoy regardless, and thank you for reading!!

“Enjolras, I need to tell you something.” Grantaire can barely get the words out, he’s so nervous. “But it’s one of those things which words don’t really cover, so I have to show you.”

Enjolras arches an eyebrow; Grantaire can tell he’s worried, there’s a pink flush rising to his cheekbones, painting the angles of his face in ways that Grantaire has been so deprived of since January. “If it’s a tattoo you got when you were drunk, save it. Love can conquer all but tramp stamps.”

Marius (considerably drunk following his earlier dinner with Bahorel and Grantaire) gasps from further down the couch, throwing the remote down on the pillows. He’s no doubt about to launch into the dangers of the tattooing process, but Enjolras’ raised hand stops the tirade before it begins.

Grantaire opens and closes his mouth, not sure that Enjolras really understands body mutilation until he sees someone midmorph. _What am I bringing him into?_

Enjolras’ face softens a little, one hand reaching forward to cover Grantaire’s tight fists. “’Taire, I’m kidding. Well, no, I’m not, but I will do my best to find the top laser removal clinic-”

Grantaire cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that. Enjolras… you trust me, right? A lot of crazy stuff has happened since January, and I can’t keep it from you any longer, as much as I’d like to.” Enjolras frowns, trepidation clear on his face. “We trust each other. Don’t forget.”

“Marius, maybe you should leave,” Enjolras says, eyes caught on Grantaire’s and so full of pain and worry that Grantaire hurts too, that Grantaire wants to forget this conversation and the past four months and just wrap Enjolras up into a blanket and never leave this bed.

“No, stay. Marius has to see this too,” though, really, Grantaire wishes he had realized just how much Marius had to drink at dinner before going through with the plan. “He’s affected just as much as you are.” Marius eases back on the couch at Grantaire’s words, but his eyes are narrowed.

“You and Cosette are having an affair! I knew it,” he shouts, one finger pointing at Grantaire as he rises unsteadily to his knees. “Though I don’t blame you for being attracted to her- in fact I don’t see why more people aren’t- but that doesn’t excuse this! I can’t believe you, you- you _siren_. I can’t believe you would do this to Enjolras and me! We should have known that you’d jump ship just as soon as we left for London-”

“Marius, for the love of God, _shut up_ ,” Enjolras hisses. He takes his hand off Grantaire’s, crossing his arms over his chest.

Grantaire grabs Enjolras’ hand back. “What? No! That’s not it,” he says quickly, ignoring Marius’ hyperventilating at the thought of Cosette with another man for now. “Enjolras, that’s not it. You know it’s not. I would never…”

< Grantaire, are you ready? Getting kinda antsy here, > Cosette’s voice echoes in Grantaire’s head.

“Yes! Now, Cosette,” he yelps, shrill with anxiety and a little bit of disgust because him and _Cosette_? Gross. She’s missing several important features south of the equator; besides that, they’re practically siblings. He turns back to Enjolras and Marius, both looking at him like he’s insane because Cosette hadn’t included them in the thoughtspeak. “Now, don’t be scared, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Grantaire, now you’re worrying me. How is Cosette supposed to scare us? Wait, her dad’s not here, is-” Enjolras’ sentence ends abruptly as a two hundred pound African leopard pads through the living room door, casually sitting down at the threshold.

Several things happen at once:

Grantaire desperately tries to keep the room calm, speaking loudly over all the commotion;

Marius yelps and tumbles off the couch, landing somewhere to the far side of the room;

Enjolras bends down and grabs one of Marius’s discarded shoes, holding it in front of him in a pale imitation of a knight with a sword as he pushes Grantaire behind him.

“- the window, both of you go to the window. I’ll hold it off- Jesus _Christ_ , Marius, would it have killed you to wear actual shoes today? These Toms will do _nothing_ ,” Enjolras hisses. Marius whimpers as he belly-crawls to the outside wall. The shoe is still brandished in front of them, Enjolras taking steps back and nudging Grantaire towards the window, one arm outstretched to block Grantaire from moving forward.

< Relax, boys, it’s just me. > Cosette’s voice must be in all of their heads, now, because the room freezes before exploding into chaos again.

Marius bursts into tears, sobbing loudly, “The leopard _ate_ her,” as Enjolras pins Grantaire against the wall with his back, one hand still holding the shoe while the other scrabbles blindly for the lock on the window behind him.

“I have to do everything. A leopard walks into my living room and I have to open the window because you two are _useless_ , god, I have to do everything-”

“No, wait, you guys just don’t understand, the leopard _is_ Cosette, just let me explain-”

“-we have to _save_ her, guys, she’s probably so scared and permanently scarred from the stomach acid already, oh God, her father is going to _kill_ me-”

< Maybe I should just change back, Grantaire. >

“ _What_? Cosette, no, that’ll scare them even more-”

Marius faints the moment the morph starts, the half-woman, half-leopard creature growing five feet tall too much for him to handle. Enjolras makes it until the leopard is completely Cosette again, body swaying at his friend’s cheerful wave as he breathes “ _what the fuck_ “ and then slumps unconscious against Grantaire’s body.

Grantaire catches Enjolras under the arms and eases him to the floor, accidentally stepping on Marius’s hand in the process. He looks up at Cosette, sighing as the smaller girl purses her lips.

“That didn’t really go as planned.”

Grantaire sighs again and shakes his head, putting a palm to Enjolras’ forehead. “Not really, no.” He checks Marius, too, and is relieved to see they’re both breathing, though clammy. “Come on, we have to wake them up,” he says, and directs Cosette to the smelling salts in the drawer of Enjolras’ bedside table, where they’ve been stashed away ever since Grantaire fainted the first time Enjolras gave him head- though Cosette doesn’t need to know that. No one does.

 

 

\-----

 

The next meeting is devoted to picking a name for the morphers. Enjolras finds himself surrounded by all of Les Amis- Bossuet, Jehan, and Musichetta have also been told, hit with the same bomb as Enjolras and Marius. Eponine’s known about Combeferre for almost a year, apparently, and at Enjolras’ questioning stare she simply shrugs and touches Combeferre’s hand (he’s in human morph now, but Enjolras had seen his horse-man form earlier in the day and felt deceived, though proud because _damn_ Combeferre’s a good actor) and comments on her intolerance for discrimination, be it racism or actual _racism_.

Courfeyrac’s immediate suggestion of _Teen Beasts_ is promptly shut down. Feuilly’s _Transformers_ is seriously contemplated because of the appropriateness of the analogy but is eventually rejected due to lack of originality and copyright infringement.

Musichetta’s quiet offer of _Animorphs_ is almost lost in the arguing, but Joly catches it and repeats it louder. Everyone else falls silent.

“All in favor?” Enjolras asks, and counts twelve hands- all but Courfeyrac. “Animorphs it is, I guess.”

“Wouldn’t Teen Beasts be more appropriate for this situation?”

“No, Courf,” Enjolras says. He uncrosses his legs and gingerly pushes up from the couch because he doesn’t even want to think about what Bahorel has done on and to this leather. “Are we done? I have an agenda for tonight, and I’d like to retain my timeliness as some sense of normality.”

“Enjolras can’t wait to pack his man-meat into Grantaire’s locker,” Eponine stage-whispers amidst Bahorel’s snickers.

“Meeting’s adjourned. See you guys tomorrow,” Combeferre says quickly and stands up, too, leading a still-laughing Eponine out of the meeting room ahead of the crew.

Enjolras stands in front of Grantaire and offers his hand. Grantaire catches it with his own and pulls himself up, and holds onto it as an anchor to press a kiss to Enjolras’ cheek. They’ve both become more affectionate in public since London, and Enjolras closes his eyes for a second as Grantaire’s lips graze his skin and hums softly at the familiar scent of _Grantaire_ (cigarettes, old leather and a hint of whiskey) against his face before it’s gone again. They walk hand in hand out of the meeting room, dodging the foot Courfeyrac shoves out in a frankly pathetic attempt to trip them.

 

 

 

\-----

 

Grantaire has been on dozens of missions already- the first couple had been a disaster, filled with arguing and confusion and lots of blood loss. He’d had nightmares for weeks about the Hork-Bajir, a peaceful colony of tree-dwellers from a distant planet that have lethal blades covering their bodies for stripping bark. Combeferre says the Hork-Bajir put up a good fight, and it’s hard to imagine a force powerful enough to enslave an entire race with incredible self-healing abilities and razors attached to their elbows, but the Yeerks managed it. There are no free Hork-Bajir left.

He can’t even imagine with the Yeerks will do to humans once their cover is blown. Overtaking the weakest race in the galaxy will be a cake walk for them.

Fueilly had overheard one of the board members of the Sharing talking about an important meeting in two weeks; everyone agrees that the Animorphs should be present in some form, and they start planning on the training and intel involved.

Grantaire makes it very clear that Enjolras is still not invited to training. “I’m not myself when we’re training, Enjolras. It’s violent and scary and honestly, really dangerous for you to be around when we’re in our battle morphs. You wouldn’t be able to protect yourself if something happened.”

“What do you mean, if something happened? We’ll be in a twenty-acre field, Grantaire. You’ll all be there.”

He sighs and sits up from the pillows to turn and face Enjolras completely. They’re spending their time at Grantaire’s apartment since he has electricity this month, dozing in his bed in between watching _Mythbusters_ reruns on The Discovery Channel. Enjolras sits up, too, mimicking Grantaire’s position.

“That’s exactly my point, Enjolras. Twenty acres is nothing to one of those animals. Do you know how fast Cosette’s leopard could cover that? You’ll be dead before anyone could get to you.”

“Stop being ridiculous. Cosette would never hurt me,” Enjolras says, rolling his eyes.

“No, she wouldn’t, but the leopard would. It’s not like we just hop into the animals’ bodies, Enjolras. The entire time we’re in the morph it’s a constant fight between our sense of self and the animal’s natural instincts. Especially when we’re in battle morphs, and _especially_ when we’re training.” Grantaire grabs Enjolras’ hands and interlaces their fingers, squeezing briefly. “I want you to stay safe, physically and emotionally. You don’t need to watch me doing that.”

“Grantaire, I want to be there for all of this. I know that I can’t come on missions, but I’ll be safe watching this. I just want to know what it’s like.” Enjolras looks down at their hands, thumb stroking Grantaire’s knuckles. “I don’t want you to leave me behind, especially when I can help. I’m a part of this, too. We all are.”

“I’m not leaving you behind, I’m just trying to make sure I’ll come back from each mission. We need to train so that actually happens. It’s not safe, Enjolras.”

Enjolras’ face tinges red, and the conversation escalates into a shouting match that doesn’t end until he storms out and slams the door so hard behind him that he rips it off one of the hinges. Grantaire sulks in his apartment, alone with a bottle of whiskey (even though he’s been so good, lately, especially since Enjolras came back from London) and turns his phone off before he goes to sleep.

He’s woken in the early hours of the morning by Enjolras’ cold toes against his calves, and falls back asleep to murmured apologies in his hair and a palm warming against his ribs.

 

 

 

\-----

 

Grantaire should have known that Enjolras wouldn’t give up that easily.

They’re midway through the weekly nighttime training session, using teeth and claws and sheer body weight to destroy each other. Grantaire hates this part. He understands missions, and it’s much easier for him to picture the Hork-Bajir as targets, as terrible as it seems. After each battle, he counts how many innocent lives he’s ruined, thinks of the enslaved humans and the Hork-Bajirs that are trapped in the back of their minds, unable to do anything but forced to suffer it all. He has left so many bodies torn and devastated, and it’s just not _fair_ that he gets to morph back to his own body, whole and healthy as the cashier from Wal-Mart slowly bleeds to death somewhere underground.

Sometimes he wishes that his injuries could carry over, too, just to erase some of the knee-buckling guilt.

Picturing one of the Animorphs as _meat_ is nearly as hard for him. Grantaire wishes that they could find some other way to test their tactics, but no one is willing to use the local wildlife for target practice. Instead, he has to picture the grizzly bear in front of him, the one that he knows is _Feuilly_ , one of his best friends and someone who helped him so much when Enjolras went to London. He has to picture him as a Controller, something to destroy and he has to hope that he’ll regain enough of his mind to back off before he kills Feuilly accidentally.

Grantaire and Feuilly have been circling each other for a couple of minutes, listening to Combeferre’s directions via thoughtspeak as he dissects their every move.

< Grantaire, you’re letting too much of your flank be broadside to him. Always keep it behind your head, let the offense be your greatest defense. And Feuilly, you need to stop tripping over your feet. Be aware of every part of you and every part of your surroundings. >

A polar bear, a gorilla, a lion and a leopard stand next to Combeferre on the sidelines- Joly, Bahorel, Courfeyrac, and Cosette. It would be comical if it wasn’t so horrifying to see nature’s greatest killers lined up, waiting for Feuilly or Grantaire to make a mistake so they can watch the fight and learn from their missteps.

A twig snaps at the edge of the forest clearing, and Feuilly’s surprised glance at the sound gives Grantaire the opening he needs. He lunges, teeth bared, aiming right for the grizzly’s femoral artery.

Grantaire knows that his battle morph, a gray wolf, is the weakest of the Animorphs. Cosette’s leopard is much faster, and everyone else weighs at least three times as much as he does. Grantaire has fighting experience from rough nights at the bar, though, and he’s quick and calculating and able to find just the right moment to go for the kill.

Grantaire has killed nearly twice the number of Controllers as the rest of the Animorphs combined, something for which he will never forgive himself for as long as he lives.

Feuilly roars as Grantaire ‘s teeth sink into the grizzly’s leg, moving past thick layers of fur and fat and muscle to hit his target. He can feel the bone crushing between his jaws. Feuilly swings his paws wildly and one of his claws just grazes Grantaire’s snout, stinging and flooding blood into his eyes. His vision obscured, Grantaire takes one of Feuilly‘s paws to the side of his head, knocking him senseless.

Grantaire lets go and takes a decent chunk of grizzly flesh and muscle with him, shooting backwards. He can’t contain his growling as his ears stop ringing, and holds his nose farther down than is truly comfortable, trying to clear his eyesight enough to see Feuilly‘s next attack.

Feuilly can’t walk very far, and he has to go down on all four to take the weight off his snapped femur. Grantaire sees the advantage immediately; Feuilly’s unable to retaliate with anything but his teeth when he’s down and bleeding heavily, something Grantaire can easily avoid.

He prepares to go in for the “kill”, a leap onto Feuilly’s back to grab onto thick flesh and fur protecting his neck, biting down hard and shaking his head until Feuilly’s neck snaps or he severs the bear’s jugular. Grantaire rocks back on his haunches, waiting until just the right moment to release when he hears another twig snap as a smell simultaneously fills his nostrils.

_Human_.

Grantaire freezes. The rest have smelt it, too, masked for so long over the metallic stench of Feuilly’s blood and _God_ how could they have been this stupid. Of course they would try to come watch.

Enjolras and Marius and Jehan are lined up forty yards from the tree line, and there’s enough moonlight out that Grantaire can just about see their horrified faces with his decent night vision. They know they’ve been spotted by now, and Jehan lets out a loud sob.

“What are you doing? That’s Feuilly, for god’s sake, you’re going to kill him!”

< What the <i>hell</i> are you doing here? > Grantaire has never heard Cosette so angry, and his head is still spinning from Feuilly’s punch and seeing Enjolras standing in the clearing, bone-white, with his hands fisted at his sides.

“We just wanted to …” Marius trails off, his voice cracking and wavering with each word.

< You need to leave. Right now. Turn around, go back to your cars or do whatever it is you need to do to <i>leave</i>. > Courfeyrac steps forward, mane shaking with each step, his tail wagging threateningly. < Combeferre, can you take them back? >

Grantaire knows why Courfeyrac chose Combeferre; he doesn’t trust anyone else with their morphs around humans. Combeferre’s Andalite is his own body, with almost no natural killing instincts and twenty years of experience in controlling any urges. Combeferre steps forward, and Bahorel is off like a shot.

Bahorel runs, howling, towards the three of them. All of the Animorphs burst into motion, throwing themselves forward to try and reach the humans before Bahorel does, screaming in thoughtspeak all the while.

< Bahorel, stop! Those are our friends- >

< Dude, _control your morph_ \- >

< You’re a human, Bahorel, you need to remember that you’re not a gorilla, they’re not a threat- >

Grantaire’s the closest and reaches the three of them first, and _god_ , his head hurts. He flips around immediately, snarling and baring his teeth, belly nearly to the ground as he gets ready to attack Bahorel. The gorilla comes roaring up to them, and Feuilly and Combeferre appear at Grantaire’s shoulders. Saliva drips from their teeth, and suddenly Courfeyrac is on Bahorel’s back, throwing them both forward. The lion and gorilla rock together for a moment, and Grantaire sees what’s about to happen.

< <i>Move</i>, >  he yells, and almost collapses when Courfeyrac and Bahorel hit the ground exactly where Marius had been standing. Grantaire moves again as the two wrestle for dominance, resuming his defensive position in front of Enjolras. He snaps his teeth and growls loudly when they roll too close, and _finally_ Joly lumbers up behind them and pins Bahorel to the ground. The gorilla thrashes wildly for another minute, powerless again both Courfeyrac and Joly. He settles eventually, chest heaving and arms twisted at unnatural angles, clearly dislocated. The lion presses a fat paw to Bahorel’s throat.

< Demorph. >

The gorilla does nothing. Everyone is silent for a moment, and Grantaire knows that Courfeyrac’s talking to Bahorel in private thoughtspeak, calming him down and helping him regain control of the morph. The gorilla starts to shrink, and Joly and Courfeyrac move off of him, starting to demorph themselves. The other Animorphs follow suit, one by one returning to human.

Grantaire’s vision clears as he stands up on two legs, turning to face Enjolras and seeing what he’d always feared written clean across his face; disgust and horror, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Grantaire-” Enjolras reaches for him, and for the first time in his life, Grantaire shrugs him off.

“Don’t.”

Combeferre storms past them then, human again, and the rest follow. They walk in relative silence, broken only by the occasional sob from Jehan and Bahorel’s apologies. When they reach the other side of the forest, right against a parking lot empty save for their respective cars, Combeferre clears his throat but doesn’t stop walking.

“Meeting tomorrow at five. Don’t be late,” he says over his back, getting into his car and roaring away. Feuilly and Bahorel leave in Joly’s car, with Courfeyrac and a still-shaken Jehan bundled into the backseat.

Enjolras stands a couple feet away with Marius and Cosette, arms crossed over his chest. Grantaire is a little horrified to find that he doesn’t even want to comfort Enjolras right now, just wants to get home and shower and forget about this goddamn night. He stares hard at Enjolras but says nothing, just walks to his own car and starts it up, driving away once his seatbelt is securely fastened.

Grantaire pulls off onto a side street a minute away from the parking lot, and waits until he’s sure that the Enjolras’ car has passed him, heading for the safety of Marius’ apartment, before turning towards his own home.

 

 

\-----

 

Things with Enjolras are different after the incident in the field and the meeting that follows. Combeferre is brutal, explaining carefully that there was a reason human bodies are not welcome at training sessions, and they very nearly found out why. Bahorel’s shoulders are slumped with guilt, dark shadows under his eyes from a sleepless night kept up with _what if_ s.

Grantaire doesn’t think Marius will ever be able to look him in the eyes what they saw in the field. He can’t even defend himself; he knows that he was vicious, the guilt churning his stomach as he grinds his teeth to dust. Enjolras puts a hand over Grantaire’s, and Grantaire doesn’t even think about it before flipping his hand over to interlace their fingers. He thinks that Enjolras might finally understand just how _deep_ they’re in this and how this fight is like quicksand, dragging them further and further down the more they struggle.

Combeferre speaks of broken trust and abject danger and sheer stupidity, which Grantaire thinks is a little rich coming from the guy who spent the last six years lying about his goddamn _species_. His words are effective, though, and it’s so easy to see why he’s a natural leader, out of Enjolras’ shadow. For all of Enjolras’ passion and Courfeyrac’s charisma, people _listen_ to Combeferre, too. Combeferre’s able to gain trust and hold it in ways that no one else in their group can. It’s something Grantaire truly admires, though he knows that Combeferre is focused on eliminating the Yeerks completely from the galaxy. Grantaire’s main concern is not the battle for Earth or eternal glory or complete control of the Animorphs; he just wants everyone to be safe, wants to walk out of each mission with the same people that walk in.

They plan the mission for the next Saturday. Enjolras and the others are welcome to wait at the warehouse, they decide, but if they even _think_ about stepping into the hallway that leads to the Yeerk pool tunnel, they’ll be kicked off the team.

 

 

 

\-----

 

 

They finally manage to get back into the warehouse sometime after eleven. No tears this time. Grantaire isn’t sure if this is because this battle wasn’t as bad as the first several they’ve fought, or because they’re all too exhausted to process anything. By the time they shuffle through the warehouse and into the meeting room, he can feel the lightness in his head and the graininess behind his eyelids. Jehan’s gasp when Bahorel pushes open the door feels like a bullet to his temporal lobe, and all Grantaire wants to do is take a shower, curl up with his boyfriend, and sleep for days- in that order.

He looks around for Enjolras, but his brain is lagging a couple of seconds behind his eyes and nothing he’s seeing is really making sense. There’s Marius and Jehan and Musichetta and Bossuet, all speaking quietly to each other. He can see Eponine start to head his way, but he really just needs to find-

“Grantaire.”

There Enjolras stands in the corner of the room, one hand clenched into a fist at the base of his throat, the other cupping his elbow across his chest with white-tight fingers. He’s at Grantaire’s side in an instant, and Grantaire just wants to erase every worry line on Enjolras’ forehead, next to his eyes, in the corner of his mouth. “You okay?”

Grantaire nods. “M’fine. When you morph, it fixes pretty much everything.” He wiggles his toes as proof and gives a tired smile for good measure.

Enjolras insists upon a full-body examination when they get back to his apartment, gentle fingers ghosting over every part of Grantaire’s body. His inspection lasts well into the night, and Grantaire starts to think that Enjolras appreciates his morphing suit at long last.

Grantaire gets up in the morning to piss, and he notices a dark sliver of something lodged between his teeth. When he pulls it out, he realizes it’s a chunk of Hork-Bajir flesh, curling at the edges and leaving a foul taste in his mouth. His legs give out sharply and his vision fuzzes so badly that he has to sit down. He stays that like, chin dug into his knees on the bathroom floor, until Enjolras finds him and coaxes him back to bed.


End file.
